ER
The Letter

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Heathen: C+ | Grade It Now!
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The Letter

Susan and Abby set their drinks on the table and bring beers for the others. Luka, it should be said, doesn't bat an eyelash at the size of Abby's lavish drink, nor do they even really cut to a reaction shot of him to confirm or refute what we think is going on in his head. It's as if they want to forget he had any tie to her at all, except when it suits them to create Romantic Tension. Gallant clears his throat and wonders nervously whether they should propose a toast to Mark. Everyone looks at Susan. Dry-eyed, non-trembly, completely calm Susan. Even though Mark felt like a waste of my time, he was a big part of her life, and I think it's weird that she's so emotionless. I know she cries later, but come on. She defers the toast to someone else, babbling that she's bad under pressure, so Luka steps up and fills the void with some lilting Croatian. I'm not sure anyone has ever called Croatian a "lilting" language, but when it dribbles out of his mouth like liquid gold, you're pretty much sold. And horny. Luka more or less wishes that Mark will go with the angels, or that flights of angels will sing him to his eternal rest, or that angels will carry him up on high and serve him Philly cream cheese on sesame bagels. You get the gist. "What the hell, I'll drink to that," Susan snorts. She and Abby clink their virgins and giggle. Just then, Kerry and Sandy enter, the latter with her hand comfortingly on her girlfriend's back. "Looks like we're going public," Haleh murmurs with an appraising glance. She had me until there. Look, ER, I can't get behind everyone on your show. I can't do it. So don't take Haleh away from me. Thanks. Kerry smiles uneasily as everyone swivels around to greet her.

Romano and Shirley operate on Melissa. "Did you talk to Dr. Corday?" Shirley asks. "Yes, Shirley, I'm at the top of her list, right after the funeral home," Romano quips. As he picks away at Melissa, trying to save her the way he couldn't save Mark -- hee -- Romano quite regrettably delves into a pretentious lecture about life and disease and the human body. I desperately don't want to believe that Mark's demise touched his soul on an irritatingly chatty level. Not Romano. I always thought he was unsullied. "Amazing how the human body can turn on itself," Romano sighs. "The very process we need to grow in the womb, to regenerate ourselves, systematically eating us alive. And no one's sacred....Cancer -- brain cancer, liver cancer, breast cancer -- it's the same traitor, the same merciless, unrelenting predator, like time itself." Romano seems to think that, with one bald wonder out of the way, he needs to don the mantle of pedantry and streak with it through the hospital. By now, Shirley is on the floor, snorting and rolling around and flogging herself for not bugging the operating table.

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